Underneath Arcadia
by M.S. Gallagher
Summary: Mulder and Scully go undercover in Arcadia, but what they find underneath their cover is far more frightening for these agents than what they find beneath the identically perfect lawns of suburbia. MSR, Angst, Romance, Drama, Character insight


UNDERNEATH ARCADIA

Spoilers: Arcadia

Rated: M (for future chapters)

Author's Note: Hey guys… go easy on me! I've been reading XF fanfic since I was about 14 and wrote some fic for other shows, but this is my very first attempt at writing my much loved Mulder and Scully. It's literally taken me that long to buck up the courage to do it (I'm old now.) But I'm taking the plunge! I'm starting with one of my visions of Arcadia - one of my most favourite episodes. I always felt there could have been so much more humour and angst written into this, so this is my first shot at it. I want to stay true to character while giving some more reason and insight into what I think they are feeling and thinking. I've got some original ideas rolling around for these guys too, but I thought I'd start here. Please feel free to give your honest opinion (gently!) as I admire so many of you that I've silently been reading over the years, and I would greatly appreciate your feedback. Thank you so much everyone… I hope you enjoy this half as much as I've enjoyed all the work I've found here!

Set the Stage.

 **Chapter 1: Getting There**

It was a wickedly warm summer's day in Southern California. The sun was shining bright and hot, almost sneering through a few wispy clouds, beating down on a road full of cyclists, drivers, and pedestrians alike. One particular kelly green Dodge Caravan was motoring serenely down the interstate, seemingly unaware that its slower than average speed was causing some serious irritation amongst the other drivers. Dozens of cars whipped past the ugly, yet functional, beast of a van. A silver Mercedes Benz SUV sped up beside it, and its passenger, a massive Great Dane sitting behind the driver, seemed to smile, as its head hung out the window, tongue lolling and drool whipping every which way. The driver was not as peaceful as his companion, and had little patience for slow moving cars. He flailed his arms dramatically and overtook the green van on the left, tires squealing as he sped forward on the black tarmac.

A petite, well put together copper haired woman sat in the passenger side of the van, tongue clicking behind her plump, bright red lips, as she looked at her watch for what seemed like the 50th time in all of ten minutes. She couldn't hold in her impatience any longer and asked the driver next to her, "Mulder, is there any particular reason that you've chosen today as the first time you've ever actually driven the posted speed limit?"

The driver of the van turned to look at her. He was tall. Even sitting in the drivers' seat you could see the height difference between them. His hair was a dark, chestnut brown, and his smile was a little lopsided. He smiled his quirky smile and replied, "What's the rush Scully? This assignment requires us to be a happy, normal and altogether boring couple. I'm just getting into character."

"I don't think the other drivers feel that going the speed limit is the normal way to travel," she said, with a hint of sarcasm and an edge to her voice. She was tired, and just a little grumpy at the idea of having to go undercover as a housewife, especially with the man sitting next to her.

Relations between the two had been strained as of late. The appearance once again of Special Agent Diana Fowley had caused a strong emotional reaction on her part, although most of that she hadn't shared with him. Just a few snide remarks and questions about her motives. Yet again, as she came onto the scene, Mulder's attitude toward her seemed to turn obligatory and almost pandering; as if he tolerated her ideas and actions, but that he knew better in the end. Like the X-Files was really just his baby, and he had to take her along for the ride because he was responsible for what happened to her. To her, he sounded like he was patronizing a petulant child and it got right under her skin, making her doubt her own self worth and life choices. And feeling like that can make a woman just a little grumpy. She sighed inwardly as they cruised down the highway and scrunched up her nose as she saw the green sign indicating the upcoming exit for Dunsmuir, California. They were almost there.

Mulder glanced sideways at Scully. He could feel the tension between them, and he silently worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He knew that Scully had been a little short with him lately, and as a profiler and psychologist it didn't take much of a leap for him to know that it was because Diana had shown up in their lives again and become involved with investigating an X-File. Although, he kept himself so constantly distracted that he had never really given much honest thought as to why this created such tension between him and Scully. He automatically assumed it was an Alpha female issue and generally let it be, unless she brought it up.

He was feeling a little restless, cramped up in the van, but like a stubborn old man he refused to drive any faster. This was their first case back on the X-Files, but he knew that there was no unexplained phenomena at work here. So he chose to pander to his superiors, take his time, and drag it out as long as possible on the government dime. And it served them right. If he was overly dramatic trying to stay "true to character," so be it. He might as well play the part and keep his sharp mind mildly interested by flexing his acting muscles. His Oxford days were long gone, but he hand't forgotten the rush of pretending to be someone else and letting all of his own concerns fall to the wayside, if only for a little while. But he was nervous about letting his all consuming desire - the itch he was never fully able to scratch - fall loosely at his side, while he pretended, just for a moment, that he was someone he knew he would never be; someone with a life so simple, safe, and mundane that the greatest fear he had would be that he might forget his wife's birthday.

He gently veered right to exit the Interstate and slowed as he reached the stop light. The tension was getting more uncomfortable for him as Scully tapped her meticulously manicured nails on the door handle, so he tired to lighten the mood. He smirked over at her, hoping she would give him even a little wry smile and said, "Well Mrs. Petrie, we're almost home!" Scully arched her eyebrow as her ocean blue eyes gazed at Mulder, but said nothing. She was tapping her foot against the floor now too, and was clearly anxious to get out and stretch her legs. Mulder exhaled with some force and turned right onto the quiet street. A few more twists and turns and they were pulling up outside of a large, well-manicured house, amongst a row of large, also well-manicured houses. Mulder turned off the engine and stared out at the house, which could have fit about 100 versions of his tiny apartment inside of it. In true preppy fashion, he drew a light pink sweater over his shoulders, and stepped out of the van onto the sidewalk below.

They were no longer Mulder and Scully. For now they were Rob and Laura; homeowners, longtime lovers, and normal, everyday suburbanites. No monsters, no darkness, no threat. They could certainly pull this off, Mulder thought cockily, while Scully glanced at him and rolled her eyes at the big, goofy grin he had plastered on his face. She was not as confident, as she forced a strained smile and greeted the bubbly neighbour, bouncing on her heels in front of them.


End file.
